Help Me Say Goodbye
by emeraldphan
Summary: After her marriage to Raoul, Christine realises who she really loves. But is it truly possible to live happily ever after? Not the usual story - all is not what it seems... Mainly musical based.
1. Chapter 1

Help Me Say Goodbye Chapter 1

The de Chagny estate lay shrouded in darkness, under a slim crescent moon. Everything was quiet and still, although the hoot of an owl could be heard at a distance and there was a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the magnificent oak tree on the front lawn. Inside the imposing chateau, home of the de Chagny family for hundreds of years, the household had settled down for the night and no sound could be heard. All was quiet, as the grandfather clock in the hallway struck 2 o'clock.

Yes, all was peaceful. And yet, in the master bedroom, the new wife of the Vicomte de Chagny, previously known as Christine Daae, was neither at rest nor at peace. She was in a chair by the window, gazing in the direction of Paris, a relatively short journey away by carriage. She was not thinking of her opulent surroundings but of the Opera House, now empty and silent. She was not thinking of her sleeping husband either but of Erik…

"Erik" she whispered as she continued to sit, despite the cold. Her heart beat faster at the sound of his name. She did not dare to speak her next thought out loud. For she could hardly dare to admit it to herself… "I love him!" she thought. She had been married only a week and she knew. She had always known; all the way through the wedding service and the splendid banquet that had followed. She had known even before then, while Raoul, now her husband, had led her away from that... lair, the two of them still shaking from their ordeal at the hands of the man that Christine now loved.

"Why?" she thought to herself, "Why did I allow myself to be led away from Erik? Erik... my Erik…" In those moments after their kiss, Erik's first kiss, she had known. And when she had returned to him, to give him back his ring, she had seen those eyes, those haunted, pleading eyes as he told her that he loved her. He had looked so vulnerable, so pitiful and yet it was more than pity that she felt. Those eyes, that voice… they still haunted her…

No, Christine was not at peace that night, just one week after becoming a bride.

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She was not any happier in the morning, all the way through breakfast. For most of that day, she had visitors coming to pay their respects to the new wife of the Vicomte de Chagny. They were wives of barons, vicomtes, and other titled people of various descriptions. Most were spoilt, snobby women with nothing better to do than drink tea in other peoples' houses and share spiteful gossip about anyone within a 30 mile radius. All had sent their visiting cards in advance of course. All had opinions on everything.

"- saw them together at the theatre last week, out in public with no shame!

"- courting already and his poor wife is hardly cold in her grave!"

"-all those new nobles with their titles, putting on heirs and graces and swanning around the salons as if they owned them.."

" –his family are all in trade aren't they? Horrible, vulgar man, I had to get up and leave when I saw him come in.."

"-that new maid of my sister's, so flighty and impudent! I tried to warn her at the start but she never listens to a word I say.."

Christine did her best. She smiled and tried to be polite and rang the bell for more tea and made all the appropriate responses but found herself clenching her fist under the table. _When will they_ _leave?_

And later on, the obligatory game of bridge. All those ridiculous rules! She dropped her cards at one point and tried to ignore the sighs and patronising smiles as she bent down awkwardly to pick them up and unsuccessfully tried to reorganise them, while trying not to upset anyone else's cards.

As the group left, she could see them nudge each other and heard whispers here and there. "-terrible ordeal at the Opera House, poor thing!" one of them was saying. She was glad to see them disappear down the drive in a procession and tried not to think about the fact that she would meet the group again at Madame du Rochfort's home in a weeks' time.

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Night had fallen again and Christine was in bed, tossing and turning. Sleep would simply not come. All she could think about was Erik. That voice which had captivated her, had sung to her… She did not fit in here and never would. There would be card parties, dinner parties, balls.. All those titles to remember, all the different ranks and customs and trying to remember to eat with the right fork. She thought of the obscene amount of food on the dinner table this evening. It was not even a formal dinner, just her and Raoul! _Papa and I_ _never saw that amount of food in a week_. _Or longer sometimes…_ And as for that wedding banquet.. She would always be looked at, assessed, gossiped about. Always, she would be the ballet dancer who had dared to marry a vicomte.

Rising from her bed, she walked over to the window and looked out. The front lawn was bathed in a silvery glow. She gazed down at the oak tree, her mind spinning with the thoughts of her future. And then she saw him.. Standing on the lawn, as formal and mysterious as ever.. "Erik" she breathed. She glanced behind her quickly, but Raoul was still asleep. As quietly as possible, Christine got dressed and tiptoed out of the room.

Her heart was racing as she made her way downstairs and to the front door. Pulling back all the bolts she opened the heavy door. There he was.. She carefully closed the door behind her and made her way over to him. He was watching her, as inexpressive as ever.

"Why are you here?" she asked him suddenly.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" he asked, with a hint of smugness.

"No of course not" she gasped. He stepped closer.

"I had to see you again" he told her, more softly this time, "I cannot stop thinking about you."

"Nor can I" Christine replied, "I am so glad you came. And so glad you escaped. I always knew you would".

They simply looked at each other for a while. The last time they had been together had been so different.. Now they had time, so much time..

The two walked around the back of the house, alert to any possible sound of someone waking up or approaching them.

"Raoul must not find you here."

"I know. But I am the Opera Ghost, remember, I can hide from anyone. All I wanted was to see you again."

"I cannot believe this. I have missed you so much. I should never have left you."

Christine was almost in tears now but her angel was here, everything would be all right now…

After they had strolled for a while, Christine began yawning, so they made their way to the back door, which was thankfully open.

"I will return" Erik told her firmly.

"Raoul will be out hunting for most of the day tomorrow. Come back then."

"Ah, the pursuits of the ancien regime! Yes, tomorrow I will return, as we have great deal to talk about, have we not?. My dear Christine.."

He touched her cheek gently and she closed her eyes.

"I am staying at the coaching inn near the crossroads on the Paris road", he told her, "So I will not be far off. Think of me when you are playing your latest role - a vicomtess…"

Christine returned to her room, tiptoeing cautiously upstairs, past the formal portraits of stern looking de Chagny ancestors. Gently, carefully, she climbed into bed beside the man she had married. He stirred slightly and her heart leapt into her mouth. Then he was quiet again. Try as she might, it was even harder for her to sleep now. Her angel had found her. And they loved each other….

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	2. Chapter 2

She was distracted all the way through breakfast, yet patiently endured Raoul's attempts at conversation. She tried not to cringe when he asked her how she was getting on with her "new friends".

"Fine", she replied nonchalantly, "We're going to Madame du Rochfort's next week for bridge".

"That sounds nice", he said, in a tone that was far too cheerful, "It'll give you something to look forward too, won't it?"

"Yes" she whispered.

"It's good that you're meeting new people. You need some female company".

"Yes". There was a pause, as Raoul looked at her.

"Are you all right dear? You're looking a bit pale this morning"

"I'm fine, thanks. Just a bit tired".

"I can cancel –"

"No it's all right, the Baron will be expecting you today. I'll be fine."

"Well, enjoy your visit from Madame Bosonnet. She's coming around 11 isn't she?" Christine tried to stifle a groan. How could she have forgotten?

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It was half past eleven and Madame Bosonnet was in full flow, in between sips of tea. She had brought her sister, Mlle Beaumont along with her and the subject of their animated conversation was governesses.

"Honestly, I've a good mind to dismiss that useless woman! How she ever got any of her previous positions is beyond me! She has absolutely no control over the children!" Turning to Christine, she explained proudly, "They're so high spirited, bless them!"

"I'm sure they are", Christine acknowledged softly.

"Well they'll soon be old enough to send away to school," her sister was saying, but their hostess was losing interest already. They soon fell to discussing their own governesses – "What was the name of that old dear, she must have been about 80, do you remember we used to hide her spectacles and throw our books around the room? Oh she was a feeble old thing; was it Mlle Dupard?"

"Yes that was her name. And then the one that came after her, she had a terrible temper-"

_They'll be rehearsing in the Opera House now_, Christine thought sadly. Madame Giry will probably be shouting at the younger ones ,telling them to stay in line and point their toes.. How she missed those days!

"Oh I couldn't wait to go away to the convent, and then I hated it when I was there." Madame Bosonnet was saying_. I wonder if Erik is outside now? He never told me what time he was_ _coming. I am sure he would hide if there was anyone around…_ She couldn't help thinking about him..

She snapped back to reality, when it suddenly dawned on her that the two visitors were looking in her direction expectantly.

"Sorry?"

They glanced at each other.

"We were just asking you.. if, well, you.. went to school?" Madame Bosonnet shuffled awkwardly.

"No", Christine replied softly.

"I see", the other lady muttered, and an awkward silence descended on the room.

"But my papa taught me to read and write when I was small", she told them, her voice more eager now, "Mainly from the Bible".

"While you were… " Madame Bosonnet gestured awkwardly, making circles with her fingers. "Travelling around?

"Yes"

"That is .. unusual", remarked Mlle Beaumont, while appearing to examine her teacup. _Being sent away to school is unusual to me_ thought Christine but she dared not say anything.

After the women had left, following more polite conversation, Christine waited a while, attempting some embroidery, then hurried out to the grounds, to the oak tree where she had first seen Erik. And sure enough, there he was, as alluring and mysterious as ever. He gazed at her as she came towards him. _Erik, my Erik_. Nothing else could bother her now.

They walked for a while, out of sight of the house, just enjoying each other's company. They strolled down the arbour into the walled garden and sat down. "Perhaps we could meet here in future", Christine suggested. Erik nodded.

"As you wish".

After a long silence he asked her, "And how is the Vicomtess today?"

There was, as ever a slightly cynical tone to his voice. She took a deep breath.

"This is not the life I want Erik" she told him. _Finally.. To speak those words out loud at last_… She turned towards him. "I don't belong here".

"Ah, the Vicomtess is bored! As I knew she would be! As I knew _you_ would be…"

"Erik, don't please.."

"I always knew you did not belong in this world. But you made your choice."

"No!"

She was on her feet now, looking down at him.

"I did not choose! You sent me away! I should have stayed with you, you know that! Don't you remember, when I came back to return your ring to you? You told me you loved me. And I had to leave; Raoul would never have let me stay. But at that precise moment I wanted to stay with you, truly I did! You must believe me! When I kissed you the first time, yes, it was to save Raoul's life. I couldn't let him die… But then, the second kiss, that was when I knew.."

She knelt at his feet now, almost incoherent with tears.

"I love you Erik" she said simply.

"And I love you Christine, you know that. I always will."

His voice was kinder now, gentler. Gathering herself together, she sat next to him again. They were silent for a long time. The weight of Christine's decision was almost pressing down on her, and she could hardly breathe. What about Raoul? I married him..

"I cannot stay here my darling." Erik told her, as gently as he could. "I am leaving this district soon. I need to make a fresh start, somewhere new, where I do not have to live beneath an Opera House. It may be far away, England perhaps, or America, where no-one cares if you are a vicomte or a labourer".

Christine stared at him, and in that moment her decision was made.

"Take me with you. I want to come with you. Please".

There was silence now, broken only by occasional birdsong and the gentle breeze.

"You need time to decide something of this magnitude", he told her, with customary firmness. "Let us walk for a while".

He rose and she followed. Soon they were heading back in the direction of the chateau.

"Take me with you, please. I want to be with you, no-one else", she insisted. He sighed.

"How do I know you will not become bored with me?" he asked her cynically.

"Never!" she gasped, amazed he could even ask her that, "Not while I have breath in my body. I love you, and always will."

Slowly, he removed his mask. "An..an eternity of this – before your eyes?" he reminded her. And as she gazed into that face, she was no longer afraid…

"If you come with me, you would be saying farewell to all this." he told her, waving a hand to indicate the splendid grounds. "There would be no servants at your beck and call."

"I don't want any of that. You know I never did; you admitted as much earlier. I want you.. and your music", she replied, without wavering.

They stood facing each other for a while. Both knew there could be no other outcome of this meeting. Erik broke the silence at last.

"My mad Christine.. What have I done to you?"

"You have awoken me, through your music.", she told him firmly, "And I will only ever be half alive without you".

"My Christine", Erik whispered, and gently began to sing in her ear." Nightime sharpens, heightens each sensation..."

Closing her eyes against the rational world, she began to sing the familiar song with him, as he wrapped his arms, and his voice, around her. She knew now that it was a love which defied all reason and logic, all the expectations of society.. a love which simply _was_…

They were brought back to reality as Christine saw a small, heavily built man watching her from a distance, pushing a wheelbarrow and her heart leapt.

"Oh God, it's Pierre", she gasped.

Erik looked around to see who she was looking at, but she took his arm and led him towards the relative shelter of the arbour.

"Who's Pierre?" he asked.

"The head gardener", she replied. What would they do now? "You'll have to go", she told Erik pleadingly, "But.. I will talk to him, perhaps he will be.. discreet about this. Oh, I cannot believe he saw us! But come back.. please!"

"Yes, tomorrow, but perhaps at night this time!"

"Yes, at night.."

A little later, Christine watched Pierre head towards his toolshed with an empty wheelbarrow and went forward nervously to talk to him. _Time to act like the mistress of the house_.. She cleared her throat and struggled to think of the right words .

"Pierre?"

The gardener looked around in surprise, instantly removing his cap.

"Yes Madame?"

"May I.. have a word with you?"

He seemed nervous, and for a moment she felt guilty.

"Yes Madame, of course".

She stood in front of him, just as nervous as he was apparently.

"Pierre.." Her mind went blank. "Pierre.." she began again, suddenly finding new courage. "What you saw earlier… I would be very grateful if you did not say anything to the Vicomte, or indeed the other servants about what you saw. Is that clear?"

The last three words were uttered with a sharpness that she did not intend, or perhaps she did.. anything to prevent Raoul from finding out..

"Yes Madame, I understand.."

He did not meet her eye and shuffled uncomfortably. _Why is he still standing here?_ After a moment she realised that he was waiting to be dismissed. The poor man had been a servant his entire life..

"That will be all Pierre, thank you", she told him, in what she hoped was an authoritative tone. She still was not used to giving orders to servants.. After he had resumed his duties, Christine made her way to the drawing room, still shaking and, after a much needed cup of tea, attempted to occupy herself with embroidery, while waiting for her husband to return..


	3. Chapter 3

Erik dominated all her thoughts now. Try as she might, she could not avoid thinking about him, worrying about him. And now that she had made her final decision, she had another burden weighing down on her heart. Raoul... _What will I tell him? How will I tell him? He will be_ _heartbroken.. and angry_. Christine's mind was spinning as she sat in the carriage, on her way to the dressmaker in Paris, for a fitting. One of her new... acquaintances had recommended this particular lady. "Oh I would never go to anyone else! You simply must pay her a visit, my dear!" And here she was, being driven along the Paris road, with the birds singing and the hedgerows in bloom, on a perfect day... and her mind was miles away.

Through the mists of time, Christine saw two innocent children playing together on the beach at Perros. Their vast differences in rank had not mattered then. Nothing had. It was so much simpler, she thought with a sigh. And Papa, playing the violin to us and telling us stories... Little Lotte... She could still hear the sound of the sea in the background and the sad music and Raoul's eager face..

"No, children, that is enough music for tonight! And Raoul, your governess will surely be looking for you…"

Yes, those had been happy, less complicated days, in their cosy little world in that house by the sea.

It was hopeless, of that much she was certain. She had loved Raoul in her childhood years, and seeing him again at the Opera House had brought all those wonderful memories flooding back. But she knew she did not love her husband in the way she loved Erik, and never could. And now... she would have to tell him that she loved another, that she was leaving him, and his society.. It seemed impossible.

The dressmaker had to repeat her questions and comments to Christine several times during the fitting, and her client had little enthusiasm for the procedure anyway. She did not particularly want another dress, nor did she want to attend the forthcoming ball, which was her reason for purchasing the dress in the first place. She could not wait for night to fall and she could see Erik again…

She was beginning to live for his visits, and little else. That night he asked her, rather coldly, when she was going to tell Raoul that she was leaving him. She was living a lie, he told her; she was living a pretend life as a Vicomtesse, when her soul was waiting to be set free.

"Let me find the right words", she pleaded with him, "Then I will come with you, my Angel of Music".

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_They were bound together, her and Erik, with some kind of thick, woven rope, pressed tightly against each other. And Erik seemed to be struggling, trying to free himself, but the ropes were too constricting and the knots too elaborately tied. "Christine!" he cried, "Release me! Please let me go! Please Christine, you must". He sounded like he could hardly breathe, and Christine was panicking now, the ropes were getting tighter, crushing them, Erik was still pleading.. _

She woke with a start, to find her heart beating fit to burst out of her chest and sweat dripping off her_. What on earth_… Gradually her heartbeat returned to normal and she could breathe normally again. Those ropes… And why was Erik pleading with her? What did it all mean?

She sipped from the glass of water on her dressing table, thinking it over. Why would Erik be asking her to release him? He loved her, had always loved her.. For a time, at the Opera House, it had been the other way around – she had wanted to escape from him. She was ready to give up everything – _everything_ – for him, even the rational world. Why was she dreaming about Erik asking her to let him go? Perhaps he was having doubts? Perhaps this was some kind of cruel joke, or another form of manipulation? She had no choice but to ask him the next time he visited her.

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Raoul had returned from his usual morning ride, refreshed and invigorated. He was in his study now, having changed into more suitable clothes and ready to take care of the more practical aspects of the estate. The maid had brought his post in, and he sat in his chair, reading the various letters and invoices that demanded his attention. Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Come in", he announced. The door opened gingerly, and there stood Pierre, his gardener.

"Pierre! Good morning.. Come in! Is everything all right in the grounds today?"

"Good morning Sir", he began nervously, "I – I just wanted to let you know.. That new lad, Antoine, has arrived, to help me out, I mean, you remember?.."

Raoul did remember – he had asked Pierre to hire a new assistant to help with the increased volume of work.

"Yes, of course. Well that is fine, Pierre.. I take it I can trust you to show him the ropes, as it were?"

"Yes Sir, I'll put him to work straight away, shall I?"

"That.. would be best". _Why is he asking me that? He's taken on assistants before_..

"Thank you, sir. He seems like a strong lad, just what we need".

"Well, that's good to know. Thank you for informing me".

But the gardener did not move from his position in front of Raoul's desk. He shuffled nervously, clearing his throat_. _

"Was there something else, Pierre?"

There was a long pause as the gardener seemed to look for the right words. Then he spoke hesitantly.

"There was, in fact… Sir, I hope you don't think me forward or feel that I'm interfering.. I've thought long and hard about coming to you about this, and –"

Raoul sat up straight in his chair, his full attention on this most trusted servant.

"Coming to me about what, Pierre?" he asked guardedly. The older man avoided his employers' gaze as the clock ticked away incessantly.

"It's about Madame.."

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The next morning, Christine joined her husband at the breakfast table as usual. Erik had done all he could to reassure her last night, telling her most emphatically that he loved her and would never ask her to release him.

"You have a wild imagination, my dear", he remarked, "but then again, you always did! Dreams are often nonsensical – you have nothing to fear from them." And her spirits lifted again, as they always did when the two of them were together.

She returned to her bed, as quietly as a mouse and settled down under the covers. She did not know that her husband had only just got back into their bed himself, and was currently feigning sleep, just as she had done earlier.

Now it was morning. Reality was pressing in on her again as she gazed at the gold rim of her teacup and watched her husband neatly slice off the top of his boiled egg. She nibbled at the toast that Annette brought to the table and studied the roses on the teapot, a wedding present from one of Raoul's cousins.

"All the cups and saucers that we own. More than most people can dream of", she remarked suddenly. "So many of them. How many do we own?"

Raoul looked at her strangely but said nothing. There was a long, awkward pause. Then Raoul asked her casually, "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Fine, thank you" she replied in a soft tone.

"No you didn't" he replied immediately. She flinched slightly but he continued.

"I heard you getting back into bed".

Surprisingly his tone was not accusatory, but she could feel her palms sweating and nausea rise in her throat. Just then Annette returned to the table.

"Would you like anything else?" she asked.

Raoul put up a hand. "No thank you Annette. And could you leave us for a while please?"

"Yes sir" the maid replied in surprise. She glanced at the two of them and left the room quickly.

The silence that descended on them was deafening.

"You were outside, weren't you?" Raoul asked her, breaking the silence suddenly. Again, no accusation, just a simple request for facts. "I heard you creep downstairs. And I followed you, some of the way, enough to hear you sneak out the back door."

Christine concentrated on the floral pattern on the teaset_. Small rose, large rose, small rose_…

"You went outside" her husband was saying "In the middle of the night".

There was no way out now. Unless..

"I – I thought I saw an.. intruder" she stuttered quickly, "Outside, under the window. When I got up to use the chamberpot.. "

Her husband cringed at this reference but only for a second.

"I saw-"

"You thought you saw an intruder?" he asked incredulously, "And you went outside _by yourself_ to approach him? In the middle of the night?" She closed her eyes. This was not working. She would have to tell him about Erik at some point, after all. Perhaps now…

After a pause that seemed to last a lifetime, Christine looked up at her husband.

"It wasn't an intruder. At least, it was I suppose but not the way you think. It was.. Erik. And.. it wasn't his first visit here either. " Time seemed to stand still as she summoned all her courage from deep within her.

"I love him, Raoul. "


	4. Chapter 4

It seemed like the entire world had come to a standstill as Christine kept her eyes on the tablecloth and waited for Raoul to respond_. If only it hadn't happened like this_. And then he spoke.

"E-Erik has visited you? Here, on the estate?"

"Yes. For almost a week now. Usually at night." She was trying to keep her voice calm, gentle.. She finally found the courage to look up at her husband.

He was staring at her. Not in anger, not with any emotion that she could discern but simply staring... Slowly, he placed his breakfast plate to one side and placed his elbows on the table. He was quiet. Too quiet. The clock on the mantelpiece was ticking away steadily. He closed his eyes.

Christine had no idea what to do. She wanted him to say something, anything that would break this horrible silence.

"I love him" she repeated suddenly. "We love each other. " She was still trying to be as gentle as she could. "We have talked together a great deal. This is not a sudden or rash decision."

"Decision?" Raoul queried, a puzzled expression on his face.

"We..." She took a deep breath. "We... want to be together. I'm so sorry, Raoul, I never wanted to-"

"You want to be with.. Erik?" He stared at her again, incredulous once more, like when she had tried to lie to him.

"Yes Raoul. Please believe me, I am so sorry! I had no idea how to tell you or when to tell you; I've been so worried about finding the right words and I never planned for it all to happen like this..."

He stood up. Christine stood as well, tears in her eyes. Her husband's gaze hardly left her.

"Perhaps we should go into the drawing room?" she asked tentatively. Wordlessly, he followed her. She sat in an armchair, hoping Raoul would do the same but he remained standing. He faced the window, but she could see that his hand was over his mouth and he was gazing out at the sweeping driveway. Slowly he lowered his hand.

"Not again", he murmured.

"Raoul?" she enquired, wishing he would say something. Finally he turned to face her. _He's going to explode, I can feel it_…

"P-perhaps you would like to go and lie down for a while?" he asked in a surprisingly gentle voice. "You've been so pale recently and, well, you've hardly had any sleep either. And you hardly touched your breakfast. I can send for Dr Joubert if-"

"Raoul, didn't you hear what I just said? I love Erik! And he loves me!"

He looked at her warily, as if unsure how to proceed. Christine could see that he was contemplating what to say next.

"Yes, I heard what you said".

There was concern in his voice, but she could also hear slight _panic_. Of all the reactions she had expected, this had been the furthest from her mind. Perhaps she should just keep talking? Or should she give him time to accept it all?

"I think you knew already", she continued. He looked at her in surprise. "Don't you remember when he let us go and we left his lair together? I went back to return his ring. I kissed his hand. You remember… And as we left, I sang our song to him... I think I knew when I kissed him, when I was trying to save your life.." She was once more unable to meet his gaze. "And he came to see me, a week after the wedding, during the night. We talked at great length, like I said. He has visited me at other times too, and we are both certain that this is what we want. I have never been so sure about anything."

He sat now, or rather, collapsed, into his favourite armchair.

"This can't be happening..." he muttered. Christine immediately rose and knelt in front of him.

"Don't you see?" she asked him. "We should never have got married. We were friends, dear childhood friends, and we had such wonderful times when we were young. But we were children in those days. We knew nothing of love. It was so good to see you again at the Opera House. But we cannot bring back old times.."

Her voice trailed off.. She stood. Her husband had been holding his head in his hands, but now he looked up at her.

"Our wedding.. Everything happened so quickly after we left the Opera House. And now I know who I love, but you will always be dear to me.."

She looked at his face, trying to discern what was going through his mind. Walking over to the mantelpiece, she saw a photograph of the two of them on their wedding day. One of the finest photographers in Paris had taken it for them. Raoul looked handsome and proud, and his bride looked had a dreamy smile and distant expression on her face.

"I don't understand" he finally said.

"Oh Raoul, this must be hurting you so much! You know, I expected you to be angry. You would be perfectly entitled to be angry with me."

"I'm not", he replied softly. "I just don't understand.. Christine, I need to be alone for a while."

"Of course. I understand."

And with that he left the room and retreated into his study.

There were no visitors that morning, and Christine was more than grateful for that. However the two of them had been invited to the Baron's dinner party that evening. It would not be a comfortable excursion..

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At luncheon, husband and wife ate separately and Christine was glad to see Raoul heading out to visit the estate farm. She settled down with a book, but about half an hour later, Annette came to the door.

"Madame, Dr Joubert is here to see you."

"Dr Joubert? I didn't send for him. Are you sure he's here to see me?"

"Quite sure, Madame. Will I show him in?" "Yes, thank you."

Puzzled, she greeted the elderly doctor as he entered the room and bowed slightly.

"Good afternoon, Madame du Chagny. I was asked by your husband to come and-"

She cut him off abruptly.

"Raoul asked you to come?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes, he sent word this morning and I came as soon as I could. He says that you have –"

"Well, as you can see I am perfectly fine. I am sorry that you have had a wasted journey, Doctor, but I will not be requiring your services today. Thank you for coming." She stood up and shook his hand awkwardly_. This is embarrassing_. _What was Raoul thinking of_…

"I see Madame, very well. I am sorry for disturbing you".

After Annette had seen the doctor out, Christine paced around the room angrily_. How dare he send_ _for the doctor without my permission! I am not a child! Does he think honestly think I'm ill? _

Shortly afterwards, Raoul re-entered the chateau and sought out his wife.

"Did I just see Dr Joubert leaving already?", he asked her.

"Why did you send for him? I am not ill, you know that perfectly well. It was very embarrassing to have to send him away."

"Christine, please, I simply wanted-"

"Why are you convinced that I'm ill?" And suddenly the answer came to her.

"It's because of what I told you about Erik, isn't it? I can't believe you think I'm ill because I told you I love Erik and want to be with him!" She glared at him. "Well, that's just typical of your kind, isn't it?"

He looked like he had been about to say something else but now he stared at her, dumbstruck for a moment.

"What do you mean, my "kind"? he snapped.

"If a woman shows any kind of spirit or independence, or if she is anything other than demure and submissive, you people think she's "hysterical", Christine sneered.

"That's nonsense and you know it. I am simply concerned about -"

"You just can't accept that I love another! And we are leaving here together!" With that she stormed out of the room.

00000000000000000000000

It had been the worst evening of her short marriage. She felt ill just thinking about the main course - a roast pheasant which was overstuffed and drowned in some kind of rich sauce. And all those people that she had nothing in common with; yes, some of them went to the Opera but for the most part it was simply to meet up with friends, not for the music. "Oh, it all sounds like screaming to me" one of the ladies had actually said to her face. And any mention of the Opera House seemed to bring about whispering and nudges and glances in her direction. It was almost a relief to be on the homeward journey now. He husband seemed to be his usual attentive self, strangely enough. The anger she had expected had not yet materialised.

"Are you all right, darling?" he was asking her. And just like during the dinner party, all she could think of was Erik…

__00000000000000000000000

_They were bound together with ropes again, crushed against each other. And Erik was pleading again. "Please release me, Christine! You must cut the rope, please, you have to!" She looked down and there was a knife in her hand. "Please Christine! Let me go, for pitys sake!" "I can't, Erik, I can't!" She threw the knife away..and still Erik pleaded with her..._

She awoke. She could not remember where she was for a moment, but then she recalled that she was in one of the guest bedrooms. _Erik… _Why had she had that dream again? And the knife…

He was outside, she knew it. The bedroom faced the back of the chateau, so she crept to the window and lifted up the curtain to peer outside. There he was, waiting for her as always… Silently she put on a few warm clothes and, taking a candle, quietly made her way downstairs. She tiptoed down the hall, through the dining room and into the kitchen. Her heart racing, she turned the handle of the back door. It was locked. Drat, she thought, but she knew where Berthe, the cook, kept the key. There was a hook to the left of the door, somewhere.. Her candle was almost burnt out by this stage and she groped along the wall of the dark, cold kitchen. At last, she felt the hook. No key…

Her heart sank. There was always a spare key at the back door! At least, that was what the cook had told her. Perhaps she had taken it to her room with her. Or perhaps.. Another thought was dawning on her.. Perhaps Raoul had told her to keep the door locked and the key out of sight. Out of _my_ sight. Anger was burning within her. She ran to the window, which overlooked the kitchen garden. No sign of Erik. He would have been able to work the door open with no difficulty! She had no success with the front door, which was always locked at night anyway.

"Erik" she whispered. "My angel".

Her back against the large oak door, she slid down until she was sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

At last she got up, determined to stop feeling sorry for herself. _There has to be another way_… She tried the drawing room window, which looked out on the back of the house, and was not far from the ground. It was open! Elated, she opened it as far as it would go. And only a short distance away, with the usual arrogant expression on the unmasked side of his face, was Erik.

"The Vicomtess is climbing out a window to see her secret lover?" he smirked, "That would make a perfect opera, don't you think?"

She climbed on to the window sill, and stepped through the open window, on to the ledge outside. He walked over to her, his hand outstretched to assist her. "At least it is not an upstairs window, I suppose. "

And they were together again, if only for a little while.

"I told Raoul today" Christine said, after a few moments. Erik chuckled darkly.

"Ah if only I had seen the blue bloods' face when you told him! It is moments like this that make life worth living!"

"He thinks I'm ill", she continued. "He sent for the doctor."

"Some would argue that being in love with me is an illness" he remarked with a slight coldness.

She did not wish to argue with him. They wandered down to the walled garden and sat on a bench as they had done before. They talked of their departure, of their new life together. And Erik sang to her in that beautiful voice and she joined him. She became sleepy and he laid her down on the bench, kneeling beside her.

"My Christine" he whispered, "My mad, sweet Christine..."

"I love you, Erik" she whispered In return, just before her eyes closed.

And she was still on that bench, fast asleep, when one of the assistant gardeners found her several hours later.

0000000000000000000000000

She could hear voices outside her bedroom door; Raouls'and the doctors'.

"Yes, it's a very low window, anyone could have climbed out. I can't believe it wasn't locked."

"Well you are lucky it's not winter, she won't be long in recovering-"

They moved away from the door at that point. Her throat hurt. There were blankets piled on top of her and she had no idea how long she had been there. Memories of the walled garden flooded back to her. _Where is_ _Erik? Did they find him too?_ She did not have the strength to move and was vaguely aware that she had been given something, laudanum perhaps, before her eyes closed again.

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Christine was in bed for three days. Raoul cancelled all her engagements, so something good came out of it, she supposed. She had a slight chill, as the night had been a little cooler than normal, but as the doctor had implied, it could have been much worse. Realisation was dawning on her.

_Raoul is going to keep me here, away from my angel_.

One night, Erik came to her again.

"How did you get in here?" she asked him weakly.

"Did you think a locked door could keep me out?" he asked her smugly. But she was not sure if that was a dream or reality.

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When she had recovered, having rested her voice sufficiently and taken all the normal precautions, Raoul came to talk to her in the sitting room.

"How are you feeling today, dear?"

"Much better, thank you."

"That's good."

"The doctor drugged me, didn't he? And you allowed him?"

"Just something to help you sleep, darling. Everything is going to be fine."

He stared at the ground, before continuing.

"You were found outside, on the bench in the walled garden. Perhaps you were sleepwalking?"

Again, that gentle tone. And he sounded almost hopeful. There seemed to be no point in any more secrecy.

"I was talking to Erik"

Raoul looked like he had been punched in the stomach. He lowered his head, and she could see that his fist was clenched.

"We are leaving together very soon. " There was a long pause, before Christine spoke the fear that she had been nurturing. "You've done something to him, haven't you?"

"What?"

"That night.. We were together when I fell asleep. He would have stayed with me, he would never have left me alone at night. You've had him arrested, or locked up.. Did you hurt him? Raoul, did you?"

Her husband stepped back, bewildered and afraid.

"You made Berthe hide the key to the back door, didn't you? You didn't want me to leave this house. You still don't. Well, your plan didn't work, did it? You forgot about the window."

Forgetting all her intentions to be kind and gentle, she stepped nearer to him, continuing to hurl accusations at him.

"You don't want us to be together! You want Dr Joubert to say that I'm insane or unstable. You want to keep us apart, by locking me in and pretending that I'm ill. I tried to be gentle about all this, but you will simply have to accept that I am leaving you for Erik!"

She was breathless now, and sat down in her armchair again to recover.

Raoul was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. After what seemed like an eternity, he looked up. There were tears in his eyes.

"You truly do not understand, do you? I thought… "

He sighed deeply and shook his head.

"I don't know what to do. I don't understand what's happening and I don't know what to do."

Not knowing what to say, Christine left him alone.

The next day, Raoul travelled into Paris in the family carriage, under the pretext of having some business to do there. Which he did, in a way. He made straight for the Opera House. On seeing the famous crest on the side of the carriage, the stable hands rushed over to unhitch the horses and take them to be fed and watered. Raoul made his way to the foyer, which was empty. The doorman approached him.

"Good morning sir! I am afraid there are no performances today."

"That's quite all right. I would like to speak with Madame Giry, if possible. If she's teaching a class, I am more than happy to wait."


	5. Chapter 5

"That is an outrage! He had no right to do that to you!"

Erik's rage was increasing with every second, along with Christine's fear. "He will NOT keep you from me!"

He was pacing up and down as he ranted, clenching his fists. Suddenly he stopped and turned to face Christine.

"You cannot stay here. You have put off your departure for far too long. It is time, Christine. You asked me to take you with me. Now you must act on your wishes."

She couldn't describe how she felt. She had been so relieved that Erik was here again, unharmed. It had been a few days since her confrontation with Raoul and she was so glad to be with her angel again. True, she would be locked into the house tonight but she was trying not to think about that.

"Did you think the Vicomte would frighten me?" he had sneered when she had asked him about the events of that night. But she_ had_ been afraid as she lay in her bed, drugged and immobile, with no idea of what had become of him. Now, looking into those eyes, she knew that Raoul had no power over the man she loved, that he could never hurt him or prevent them from being together.

"Tonight" she whispered. "Come back for me tonight. I will be ready for you"

"Tonight", he repeated, touching her face. She leaned against a tree, hardly caring that it was daytime and there could be people around. Soon it would not matter anyway.

"Raoul knows. I have tried to make myself clear. He just cannot accept it yet". Her voice was bitter and Erik took her in his arms. "I thought he might have been worried about getting a divorce, and all the scandal, but he's never even mentioned that."

"He will have to face up to things when you are gone." Erik remarked drily. She sighed. Why was he always so cynical? Perhaps when they had been together for a while, when he realised how much she loved him…

A brougham cab was coming up the long driveway and the two of them withdrew behind the copse of trees, out of the view of the passengers. "Probably a visitor for Raoul" Christine mused aloud. She was in no mood for company right now.

"Most likely. Now, you will be ready tonight, will you not?"

"Of course. I have already begun packing. I cannot stay here another day, not when Raoul is trying to imprison me here. After tonight… we will be together always."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Annette led Madame Giry and Meg into the drawing room. "How good to see you both," Raoul told them with what he hoped was a cheery tone, but neither women were taken in by it. Madame Giry, in particular, was shocked at how tired he seemed and how his normally handsome features looked so haggard. They both bid him a good morning and he invited them to sit. Sighing, he thanked them for coming.

"How could we not, sir?" Madame Giry asked him. "We are both more than happy to help, for that child has been like one of my own, ever since I brought her to the Opera House. And she and Meg have been like sisters, since that very day. That poor little orphan! And now.." Her voice trailed off, and all three were silent for a while. Then Raoul spoke up, almost in a whisper.

"Yes, and Christine trusts you both so much." Both women noticed the tone of sadness in his voice and they exchanged looks. Neither could understand what had come over the girl they were both so fond of. Had they done the right thing in coming here?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Everything was overwhelming her, as she sat under the tree with Erik. Everything… She was beginning a whole new life with the man she loved. She would never be parted from Erik or his music ever again. And yet.. something was not quite right. Raoul had scared her, yes, but he would never do so again, not with Erik by her side. They had discussed everything as they sat there, forgetting that the rest of the world even existed. She would be awake when he came for her, waiting by the drawing room window as they had arranged. The window was not locked with a key and Erik would have it open in a moment. Then... they would steal around to the front of the house to the brougham that would be waiting for them.. and they would be free. No-one would dare confront them. At least, no-one would dare confront Erik. They would leave this place behind forever.

Why then, was she uneasy? Erik had come back for her, despite the danger, had he not? He loved her; he was devoted to her… A sudden thought occurred to her. Was Raoul planning something else? Were they walking into a trap?

A short time later, Christine was startled to hear Raoul call her name. Erik, however, did not flinch. Looking around, she was shocked to see that he was only about thirty feet away, looking in their direction. There was no need for secrecy or for running to find a hiding place any more. Here they were, the two of them, finally within her husbands' view. "Christine!" he called again. She started to walk towards him.

"Wait here" she told Erik. "I'll be back soon. Perhaps he's ready to talk properly. Let me speak to him, and then we'll talk to him together".

"If he even contemplates doing anything to you, he will answer to me", Erik growled. "I will be watching him most carefully." Taking his hand briefly, as if to reassure him, she walked quickly towards Raoul, who was staring at her again. Then she realised that, of course, he was not staring at her but at the apple tree where Erik was still standing, proud and aloof.

"Yes Raoul?" she asked him warily. He did not avert his gaze until she was beside him. "You called me?"

"Yes. You have some visitors".

Her face fell. Never had she any less inclination for tea and gossip as she had at this moment.

"It's Madame Giry and Meg" he told her and she brightened considerably_. They will understand_… As they entered the house, Christine glanced at her husband and saw for the first time that his eyes were red.

"Have you been crying, Raoul?" she gasped as they made their way down the hallway. He stopped and looked at her sadly.

"Yes, Christine, I have been crying." They had almost reached the drawing room door, but now she paused and looked at him again. _He truly does seem upset_. _Perhaps I have been too harsh_..

"Oh Raoul, I never wanted any of this to happen! All these arguments, all these terrible things that have happened recently-."

"Madame Giry and Meg are waiting", he told her with finality as he gripped the door handle, and, in her heart, she knew he would never be ready to discuss the situation.

"It's so good to see you both!" she exclaimed as she entered the room. Meg ran to her and embraced her and her mother kissed Christine on the cheek in a suitably restrained fashion.

"And it is good to see you, Madame du Chagny!" Meg teased. A glance was exchanged between Madame Giry and Raoul, which did not go unnoticed by Christine.

"Well, I'll ..leave you three alone to chat", Raoul murmured, before leaving the room.

"How is life at the Opera House?" Christine asked gaily.

"Well, we.. we are just trying to get back to normal after.. well, you know.."

"Yes" she replied softly. Christine chattered on about how kind they were to come and visit and how she was glad to be visited by two such dear friends. The atmosphere in the room was certainly more relaxed than it normally was.

"Did Raoul offer you tea?" she asked them, "I can call Annette-"

"No thank you dear" replied Madame Giry, her voice sombre as usual. "Perhaps later".

After a brief chat about the weather and their journey, Christine could not help feeling uneasy again. There was a long, awkward pause, which she tried to fill with inconsequential remarks, but mother and daughter were exchanging glances from time to time and she could not help but notice it. At last, Madame Giry sat back in her chair, which was unusual for someone with such good posture, and took a deep breath.

"Christine" she began, and Meg fidgeted uncomfortably, "We must be direct with you. This is not a social visit. Raoul asked us to come here today." Christine sat up straight.

"Raoul asked you to come?" she gasped.

"Yes, dear. He.. wanted us to talk to you, you see.. About Erik."

She stared at the older woman in disbelief.

"He came to visit us at the Opera House a few days ago and we agreed that we had to speak to you, to make you see sense. This situation-"But she was cut off as Christine rose from her chair, the truth dawning on her..

"I cannot believe this! He has gone behind my back yet _again_! He asked you to come here, as two of my oldest friends, and try to persuade me to change my mind about Erik! He wanted you to talk to me nicely and convince me to stay here, in this life that I hate! Why? Why don't you want me to be happy?" she was shouting.

"Christine, please-"

"Erik is everything I've ever wanted, doesn't anyone understand that? He loves me! And he has visited me here – no doubt Raoul has told you everything – and we love each other and we are leaving here tonight!"

She stopped to catch her breath. Both women were looking at her, visibly shaken, even the normally unflappable Madame Giry. _I must calm down. Raoul will have told them that I'm ill or mad_ _or unstable. I mustn't confirm their fears_.

"We are leaving here together and never returning", she continued in a calmer voice, although still firm. She hated herself for her temporary weakness earlier, when she had felt sorry for Raoul. "In fact, given the circumstances, maybe we should leave this instant! Has Raoul told you that he allowed the doctor to drug me and wanted him to think I was insane? How he locked the back door so I couldn't see Erik – but we found a way, has he told you that? How he only knows about Erik because he followed me one night? He has done all he can to keep us apart and now he uses the two people I trust more than anyone else in the world, apart from Erik,.."

She looked at them both. They looked shocked and uncomprehending. Exhaling loudly, she sat down in her chair again. "He is outside now" she told them gently. Madame Giry's full attention was on her now.

"You are telling us that Erik is – outside at this moment?"

"Yes. I left him outside, under the oak tree. We were talking you see, planning our escape. We like to just stroll around the grounds normally, but today we were sitting under the tree. We were planning what will happen tonight, when he comes back for me".

She sighed wistfully, wishing tonight would come sooner, but then something inexplicable happened. Meg, her dearest friend, burst into tears. She rose and quietly knelt in front of Christine, taking her hands.

"Oh Christine. Oh you poor, poor thing."

Shocked, Christine tried to comfort her friend.

"Meg, what is it? There's no need to cry!" Madame Giry got up and guided her sobbing daughter back to her chair.

"It's all right Meg, I'll take care of this", she told her with unaccustomed gentleness.

"Christine there's something we need to tell you-"

Christine rose suddenly. "Forgive me, but I've left Erik waiting a rather long time. Perhaps I should-"

"Sit" Madame Giry commanded, in that brusque tone that could control a group of young ballerinas with a single word. Christine obeyed quickly, looking surprised. And the woman who had been the only mother she had ever known was kneeling before her now, taking her hands as herdaughter had done moments ago and taking to her in a tone that was exquisitely gentle.

"Christine, Erik is dead. Don't you remember?"

The room was spinning.

_No. No. No. No._

"No. It isn't possible. It isn't possible!" Pulling her hands from Madame Giry's grip, she stood up with frantic abruptness, all her determination to be calm now shattered. "He is here! I've spoken to him! We've walked around the grounds together-"

"No" replied Madame Giry, still gentle, still patient. "Only in your mind. It was never real, do you understand, dear? You wanted him to be alive so desperately but it was never real." Meg was holding her now, but Christine was pushing her away.

"Why?" she demanded. "Why would you come here and lie to me like this?"

"We would never, ever lie to you about something like this." Meg was telling her softly. She looked at them both, her friend and her foster mother, her eyes fleeting from one face to the other. There was no trickery, no malice, no deception on those faces. Just concern and…sadness.

She was crumpled up in grief on the floor. Her body did not seem to belong to her any more. Meg held her and tried to soothe her. All the time, her mind was searching frantically for something, anything that would connect Erik to this earth.

"The gardener saw us", she offered desperately as one final resort, like a drowning woman clinging to a raft of straw.

"No, Christine. He saw you talking to yourself, just as Raoul did earlier today. He had seen you before as well. Not just that, but you were embracing the empty air and singing to _someone_, someone who, well, wasn't there. Raoul tells me that Pierre, your gardener, has been a loyal servant to the de Chagnys for many years, and that he was most concerned. That is why he decided to tell Raoul, despite your warning, but he did not take that decision lightly."

Christine could not breathe. The world was upside down, everything was wrong. All that she had planned and hoped for…

"Don't you remember, dear? Madame Giry was asking her, but she seemed to be talking to her from behind a pane of glass. "On the night of Don Juan Triumphant. After he released you and Raoul, and you made your way back to the surface?"

"He escaped" she muttered weakly.

"Only from his cellar. He was gone when the mob arrived. He was found in the cellar above, hanging from a beam by his own lasso." The older woman sighed and leaned back against the back of the sofa. "I was asked to identify him. It was definitely Erik. I've seen his body and his death certificate. There is no possibility of a mistake." Both women were holding Christine now and Meg spoke up.

"He was buried in secret, somewhere beneath the Opera House. Even Mother doesn't know where he is."

"It was better that way. He made a lot of enemies, you know that."

Madame Giry closed her eyes briefly before continuing.

"Raoul brought you to his parents' apartment in Paris, where he used to stay when he was attending the Opera. You were in a terrible state. Well, we called around there later on but when we told you the tragic news about Erik, you fainted. When you came around, you were asking about him, talking about him in the present tense. Raoul tried to remind you that he was dead but you became hysterical."

_Hysterical.._. The irony of it...

"It was terrible. You were screaming and shouting at him, accusing him of lying… We had to send for the doctor. He gave you a sleeping draught and told us that it was shock, that it would pass. When you woke up, you seemed... well, fine really, a bit drowsy of course."

Madame Giry's voice was wavering now.

"We didn't mention Erik again. You were back to your normal self, or so we thought. There seemed no reason to talk about Erik anyway – you were preparing for your move here, for your wedding. All the talk was of the future, not the past." There were tears in her eyes as she looked at Christine. "And now… "

Christine was trembling. Meg was taking something from the pocket of her skirt. It was a page from a newspaper and the headline read "_The Opera Ghost is_ _dead_". It was dated the day after they had left the Opera House. It was true. Erik was dead and she was alone in this horrible world, with no hope of escape. "He loved me" she whimpered.

"Yes, but he's dead now and you have a husband, a _living_ husband, who has been very concerned about you. When he found out that you had climbed out a _window_ and fallen asleep in the garden, he knew things could not continue this way… You see why we had to come here, Christine? We had to help you understand."

Christine could not answer. All the events of the last few weeks seemed jumbled in her mind. And then she remembered her dream, its meaning now as clear as day: _"Christine, release me! Please, let me go…"_

All her grief erupted like a volcano and she crumpled again to the floor, beating her fists against the carpet. Meg was holding her, comforting her, but all she could comprehend was that those eyes which had gazed at her in adoration were closed forever.


	6. Chapter 6

**No later light has lightened up my heaven**

**No second morn has ever shone for me**

**All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given**

**All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee**

_From "Remembrance" by Emily Bronte_

Much later, after the doctor had been summoned and Christine had been put to bed, Raoul strolled outside the house on to the front lawn, his sorrowful gaze barely taking in the estate that he loved. He badly needed some fresh air, and some time to think. _Why has this happened? What has happened to her, to our marriage? Married only a few weeks and now.. _

He looked around. Madame Giry and Meg had joined him, although he hadn't noticed at first and they had been loath to disturb his thoughts.

"She's sleeping peacefully now. We stayed with her for a little while, after the doctor left." Madame Giry told him gently.

"Thank you. Thank you both so much…" His voice trailed off.

"What happens now?" he asked, trying to sound braver than he felt.

"I don't know. I wish I knew more about these matters. Physical illness, yes, after all these years looking after my girls at the Opera House, but this…"

All three were silent for a long time.

"Please, will you both join me for some tea?" His voice was weary. They returned to the drawing room and Annette brought tea to them promptly, but silence still reigned over the little group. Indeed, what could they have said?

After a long time, Raoul looked up at them.

"I just don't understand," he began, in a choked voice. "_Erik_ of all people, after all he did to us! After all he did to _her_… The man was a deranged murderer, didn't she realise that? Joseph Buquet, Piangi... He tried to kill me, I'm sure he would have gone through with it.. And all those demands and blackmail… Why can't she remember that?"

Madame Giry hesitated before answering. All of this was far outside her experience as a ballet mistress. She did, however, have some understanding of human nature. And she had known Christine a long time, after all.

"Perhaps she only remembers what she wants to remember. I remember after her father died, she only remembered his good aspects. Perhaps she is doing the same now."

Meg was silent throughout_. My best friend she thought sadly. I had no idea. I wish I could understand. She must have been so happy, planning her "future" with Erik and now… _"Poor Christine" she whispered. Her mother and the Vicomte turned to look at her.

"She was happy, believing Erik was alive."

"Yes, but it was a lie" Madame Giry told her firmly, "She could not have gone on deceiving herself. I only hope she will accept it now, for good."

She turned to Raoul again. "You say that your parents are still on holidays?"

"Yes, they will be home in a few days. I have no idea what to tell them. They did not exactly approve of our marriage in the first place."

Silence descended on the room once more, as the two women left Raoul to his thoughts.

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A little later, Raoul went to see the two women off. He had insisted on them taking the carriage back to their apartment in Paris, telling them that it was the least he could do. He watched the carriage disappear down the drive with sadness in his heart, for he knew that he was truly alone now. Madame Giry's parting words were haunting him. "Erik was a monster but he was also a human being, just remember that. I knew him for a very long time. He gave Christine so much. Who knows how any of us would have turned out, if we had had his life?"

He looked around. _Those bushes need to be cut right back. That tree needs to be pruned. I_ _need to call on the tenants again_. Anything to avoid thinking about Christine. One of the gardener's boys was plucking apples from one of the trees in the orchard and throwing them carefully into a large wicker basket_. Looks like apple pudding for dessert. _His favourite. Usually.

Suddenly, as he turned to go back into the house, he became aware of a presence nearby. It was Pierre.

"Good afternoon sir" he greeted him, with a little less of his normal timidity.

"Pierre.." The head gardener took a few steps towards him, a little uncertain now.

"I just wanted to say.. how very sorry I am about your wife".

_News spreads like wildfire on this estate_. "Thank you. She is resting at the moment."

Both felt awkward now. They were not exactly used to having substantial conversations after all. Raoul recalled how, as a boisterous child, he had run through Pierre's flower beds and accidentally hit a tennis ball through his greenhouse. And yet, when he had fallen from a tree and broken his arm, Pierre had carried him into the house and alerted his parents, who had sent for the doctor. This, despite the fact that the gardener had told him not to climb the tree in the first place.

They looked at each other now, and Pierre was not looking at him with servility or deference but with sympathy.

"I knew something was wrong, that time that I saw her talking to herself... You see, my sister went the.. I mean, the same thing happened to her, years ago, when her little boy died. She was never quite the same afterwards."

"I'm so sorry, Pierre, I had no idea."

"No.. well it was a long time ago, as I said. She's long dead now. But I know a little of how you must feel."

_How little we know about our servants_… "Thank you Pierre, I truly appreciate that." And the two men, servant and employer, shook hands.

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A week later, Madame Bosonnet was hosting the weekly game of bridge for the ladies of the parish. And she had made it her business to know about the latest subject of local gossip. At the end of the first hand, she laid down her cards with a satisfied air.

"Well I don't know about any of you," she began, "but I knew from the start there was something not quite right about that girl. Had her head in the clouds, no question about it. Always seemed to be somewhere else, wouldn't you agree? And anyway, those Scandinavians are such an odd race."

"Yes, that's always been my opinion too" said Madame le Crousert, who had never given the matter a moment's thought in her life.

"Oh, mine too" they all chorused, eager to agree with their hostess.

All except Mlle Beaumont, her sister, who was sitting quietly in the corner. She joined in the next game half-heartedly, but did not seem to be following the conversation. At last, she spoke up.

"I thought Christine was perfectly charming" she them quietly. Then, seeing she had their attention, her confidence grew.

"Don't you see? She was little more than a child. She arrived into this...world, a completely different world than what she was used to. It must have been very intimidating for her, yet none of us did anything to help her. Myself included."

The last sentence was uttered with such sadness and regret that everyone stared at her.

"Excuse me" she announced, putting down her cards, and leaving the room.

The atmosphere was decidedly awkward after that.

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The following day, Raoul watched sadly as his wife sat on the bed in the spotlessly clean room. He had helped her unpack and had placed their framed wedding photograph on the small table. She was humming a familiar melody to herself, but he was trying not to think about that.

"Look, dear, your room overlooks the gardens! Don't they look lovely?"

He gestured to her, and she rose slowly, making her way over to the window.

"The roses and chrysanthemums are in bloom. They really are colourful, aren't they?"

She nodded timidly, still humming. _You alone can_ _make my song take flight_.. she sang wistfully.

Trying to distract himself, he looked around at the well-tended gardens. Some of the other patients were outside, sitting on benches or being accompanied on a stroll by nuns in white habits.

"It's all very beautiful here. The nuns seem very kind, don't they?"

She looked at him, her song having thankfully come to an end.

"Yes.." she whispered, gazing out of the window.

He led her back to her bed as the head of the hospital entered. This was Dr Joubert's sister, now known as Sister Marie Therese, and he was glad that the doctor had recommended this place.

"I'll come back and visit you very soon, darling" he promised her sadly, kissing her cheek and departing the room. He followed the nun down the scrupulously clean corridor and down the stairs.

"Your wife will be well looked after here, sir!" she told him, in a tone as brisk as her walking pace. She was clearly glad to have the wife of such a high profile man as a patient. "All my nurses are efficient yet caring, and everything is run to the highest of standards. Fresh food, cleanliness, exercise…. Yes, things are changing for the better, sir, in these establishments!"

"Thank you, sister. I can see you run a tight ship here"

"Indeed. Rest assured your wife will be back to normal soon".

_Normal? She is in love with a lunatic. A dead lunatic_… _But she believes everyone can be redeemed and who knows, perhaps he was, at the end?_

After bidding farewell to the good sister, Raoul made to return to his carriage, which was waiting for him. Just before he climbed into it, he turned to look up and saw Christine's pale, gaunt face at the window. He waved to her and smiled. Slowly, she waved back, managing to smile weakly at him. But he knew from those distant, dreamy eyes that she was not thinking of him, but of someone else… a demon, a monster, but most of all an utterly tragic man, who lay buried beneath the Opera House but who would haunt them both until they died.


End file.
